


Nineteen Fifty-Seven

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 1950s, Academia, Gay Rights, History, M/M, Male Slash, Oppression, Past Doctor/Master - Freeform, Romance, Slash, Societal Homophobia, The Vault (Doctor Who), University, past doctor/river, vault era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 17:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15868512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: It's 1957 and the Doctor falls in love while trying to help Missy towards redemption.





	Nineteen Fifty-Seven

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to ileolai for being my beta-god on this thing. Don't blame him for my mistakes pls. Thanks also to those who helped with suggestions on what books Missy should read in this.

The Doctor dropped the books he was carrying when something hit him from the side.

“Oh, I'm sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going.” It was a man, who looked to be in his mid-forties if the Doctor was any judge of human age (though he had to admit that he wasn't), white skinned with sandy hair and deep blue eyes. He was handsome, in an unconventional sort of way. He stooped to help the Doctor collect the books from the ground outside the physics building. 

“Don't worry about it,” said the Doctor, feeling generous, “I wasn't really paying attention either.” He shifted the recovered books into the crook of one arm and held out his hand. “I'm the Doctor.”

“Doctor... what?”

“Just the Doctor.”

“Oh. Well,” said the man, taking his hand and shaking it with a firm grip, “I'm Alan Carlisle. I just started work here last month. Perhaps that's why we haven't met before.”

The Doctor shook his head. “I don't really socialise much. You know what academics are like. Especially physicists.” He stopped, aware that he had probably just insulted the other man. 

Alan laughed. “I know what you mean. Most of the faculty are as dull as dishwater. It was the same at Aberdeen.” He tilted his head slightly. “You're a Scotsman, by the sound of it. Did you study there?”

The Doctor found himself smiling too. “I haven't spent much time in Scotland.”

Alan frowned. “But your accent..?”

“I got it from my mother. That and lump of coal every Christmas.”

“I see,” said Alan, who probably didn't. “And where did you study?”

“Prydon... um...” He tried to remember what he had written on his CV when he got the job here. “Durham, I think.”

“Which college?” They were walking now, climbing up the steps into the physics building. 

“Whichever one would take me.” The Doctor paused as they entered the building. “My office is that way,” he said, nodding along the corridor. 

“Ah. I'm in the opposite direction, I'm afraid.” Alan seemed reluctant to move away, and the Doctor found that he didn't really want to go anywhere either. “Well,” said his new friend ( _Friend?_ thought the Doctor, catching himself. _Already?_ Where had that come from?), “we'll probably see each other around the campus.”

“I eat lunch in the cafe near the history department,” said the Doctor, not sure why he was mentioning this. “The bacon rolls are cheaper, and a lot nicer too. And the tea's good.”

“I might see you there, then. Never could resist good tea.”

The Doctor nodded. “Well,” he said after a slightly awkward pause, “I've got work to get back to. Boring essays to read, boring lectures to give.” With a final nod to the other man he headed back to his office. 

\- - - 

Missy was playing solitaire when the Doctor took in her evening mug of cocoa. 

“You look happy,” she said, looking up. 

“Do I?” The Doctor sat her mug down on the table next to her game and took a seat as he sipped at his own. 

“Suspiciously so,” she said. 

The Doctor shrugged. “I think I made a friend.”

Missy made a face. “Human, I assume.”

“Obviously.”

She took a drink of cocoa and turned her attention back to the cards. “What's she like?”

“He,” said the Doctor. “His name's Alan. He works in the physics department.”

“Hmm,” said Missy, who probably didn't really care. She stared at the game in front of her.

“Nine of hearts on the ten of clubs,” the Doctor prompted. 

“I _know_ ,” she hissed, moving the cards. 

“Didn't look like you knew,” said the Doctor, amiably. He took another drink from his mug.

“I was just waiting to see if you'd say anything.”

He laughed. “Missy, you're a surprisingly bad liar at times.”

She lifted her head to glare at him. “You're too cheerful, I don't like it.” She looked at him carefully. “Are you in love?”

He shook his head. “It's nothing like that.” He looked at her, curious. “Have you never had a friend? Other than me, I mean?”

She looked blank. “Why would I need another friend? You're more than enough trouble for one person to deal with.”

The Doctor frowned. “You've never had anyone to talk to? Someone to laugh with?” 

Missy shook her head. “Is that a problem?”

“It might be.” He couldn't imagine a life without friendship. The very idea horrified him. “Maybe once you're out of the vault you could -”

“Yes, Doctor, I should absolutely start pencilling engagements into my social calendar, it's only a thousand years away, after all.”

“It might not be that long,” he said. “You've been doing well lately. Might only be a couple of centuries.”

He saw the flash of hope in her eyes before she could chase it away. “Perhaps,” she said, as though it hardly mattered either way. She picked up her cocoa, drained it in one, and then handed him the empty mug. “I'm tired. Tell Nardole I want my eggs scrambled for breakfast.”

The Doctor finished his own drink and stood, taking Missy's mug from her. “I'll see you tomorrow,” he said. 

Missy didn't reply, focussing on her game of solitaire. The Doctor waited to see if she was going to say anything else, then left when it became obvious that she wasn't going to.

\- - - 

Alan laughed as the Doctor finished his story. “He seriously set it on fire?”

The Doctor nodded, smiling. “The whole essay. Luckily I had glass of water on the desk. Had to throw him out of my office before he could burn anything else.” 

“Sounds like a misplaced chemistry student.”

“Perhaps he was,” said the Doctor. “It would certainly explain the smell.”

Alan shook his head and lifted his teacup. “And I thought my students were a rum lot.”

“Most of mine aren't arsonists,” said the Doctor. “Hardly any of them, in fact.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Some of them are even quite intelligent. There's a girl called Emily who actually impressed me last semester.”

Alan tutted. “Be careful around the female students, Doctor. People might talk.”

“About what?” asked the Doctor, confused.

“You know. Older men and pretty young girls. Temptation.”

“I'm not tempted,” said the Doctor, shaking his head. 

Alan looked at him strangely. “Oh?”

“Should I be?”

“You tell me.” 

The Doctor tasted his tea, then added a few more cubes of sugar to his cup. “They're not my type.”

“What _is_ your type?”

The Doctor looked at Alan. There was an odd tension to this conversation, although the question had been delivered with almost perfect detachment. He wondered what it was. “I don't really have a type,” he said. 

Alan set down his cup. “Surely your lovers have had _something_ in common?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “Intelligence, I suppose. A willingness to live life to the full. Confidence in themselves. Generosity. Honesty. Loyalty.” 

“All good attributes.” He looked at the Doctor. “And currently? Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, I don't really have the time for all that.” He considered. “It might be nice, though. Having a partner.”

“We all need someone to love,” said Alan. 

“Probably,” said the Doctor, finishing his tea. He glanced at his watch. “I've got a lecture in twenty minutes. Do you think I can make it back to the department before they start without me?”

“Run like the wind!” 

“I'll saunter at my own pace. I'm the boss of me,” he said, pointing at himself. He reached into his pockets to find some change.

Alan shook his head. “I'll pay for both of us.”

The Doctor looked at him. “You're sure?” 

“I won a few shillings on the horses last week. Go on, call it my treat.” He smiled. 

“Thanks,” said the Doctor, grateful. He dropped a coin onto the table. “Give that to Iris, the waitress. Her mother's not doing well.”

“I will.”

“Thanks,” said the Doctor. He left, waving at Alan through the window as he passed. 

He made it to the lecture on time. Just.

\- - - 

They began meeting each other often, soon becoming firm friends. Alan was exactly the sort of person the Doctor liked spending time with, and unlike Missy he wasn't a genocidal psychopath. He might make the occasional snide remark about someone, but he was never cruel and the Doctor usually agreed with his assessments anyway. They ate lunch at the Doctor's favourite cafe, spent time in each other's offices talking about a wide variety of subjects, and on one occasion they went to the park together when the funfair was in town. The Doctor felt sure that he hadn't laughed so much in years. 

Sometimes Alan was quiet, almost repressed. Occasionally the Doctor got the impression that he was scared of something, but he couldn't think what it might be and he found himself reluctant to ask for some unknown reason. Still, they enjoyed each other's company and were sometimes to be found together giggling in a corner whenever someone had a comedic and rather suspicious mishap in one of the laboratories. 

It started snowing in mid-December and they took shelter from an afternoon of particularly heavy snow in the postgraduate room in the maths building. They shooed out the unfortunate students and then used their supplies to make themselves a cup of tea. 

“Can I ask you something?” said Alan, with a nervous blink. 

The Doctor stirred the milk into his tea. “Anything.”

“Is that a wedding ring?” He looked uncomfortable about having asked, which confused the Doctor slightly as Alan had never been shy about enquiring about his past. The Doctor usually had to lie about it, of course, but he tried to be as honest as possible without mentioning anything to do with aliens or time-travel. Now that he came to think about it, it seemed odd that Alan had never asked about his ring.

The Doctor glanced down at his left hand, twisted the ring around his finger slightly. “Yes, it is.” He wasn't sure how much more he wanted to say. He hadn't really talked to anyone about River since leaving Darillium. Nardole was always careful not to bring up too many memories, and Missy would only mock him if he raised the subject.

“So you've been married?”

The Doctor leaned against a desk covered in notes and graph paper. “Yes, a long time ago. Her name was River.”

“You loved her a great deal,” said Alan, and there was something in his voice that the Doctor couldn't quite identify.

“We had some wonderful years together. Not many years, but enough for us to be happy.” He drank from his mug, a sad smile on his lips as he thought of his wife. “She told me to move on when she was gone. Threatened me, actually. Maybe it's time that I did.”

“Any women you have your sights on at the moment?” asked Alan. 

The Doctor shook his head. “I don't tend to go looking for these things. I'm sure someone will show up, when it's time.” He smiled at his friend. “You turned up, didn't you? We literally walked right into each other.”

Alan laughed, the strange tension in his body seeming to dissipate. “We did. And I'm glad. Very glad.”

“Me too,” said the Doctor, still smiling.

\- - - 

The Doctor worked on the TARDIS, whistling as he tightened a loose screw on the console. He was proud of his ship, and he had plenty of time for maintenance when he wasn't running about the universe with a companion in tow. He looked around, admiring the console room. If only he could show this to Alan...

The Doctor blinked. He had been thinking about his friend an awful lot recently, occasionally at quite inappropriate times. He hadn't been so focussed on one person since... well, since River. 

He swore as he realised what was happening. He had done it again, hadn't he? He had fallen in love. And, as he reflected on their recent interactions, he was fairly sure that it wasn't unrequited. He rubbed his face with his hand and sighed loudly. It never ended well. 

_It's not the ending that matters_ , said River's voice in his head. She was right, of course, but this wasn't a good time for it, in any sense. He had Missy to look after. And he was in love with a man in England in the 1950s. 

No, this couldn't possibly end well.

\- - - 

Winter turned into spring and the Doctor felt more and more frustrated. He knew what would happen, he knew the history of gay rights in Britain. Yes, eventually things would improve dramatically, but not _yet_ , not _soon enough_. He couldn't just hop forwards ten years to ask Alan out on a date when it wouldn't get them thrown into prison. 

Sometimes the Doctor hated humans. He hated their petty prejudices and their stupid taboos. Most of all he hated his own inability to change society overnight. Yes, he could topple an empire in a few hours, but social change? That sort of thing took time, and the Doctor was only one person. What was he supposed to do, take charge and impose happiness on everyone?

He did his best, he always would.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

\- - - 

“Back from another date with your boyfriend?” asked Missy when he arrived in the vault that evening.

“He's not my boyfriend,” he said, sitting down in the armchair opposite hers.

“Why not?” asked Missy. “Humans are one of your kinks, you adore them.”

“Missy, it's 1957. Homosexuality is still illegal in this country,” said the Doctor, aware that Missy's knowledge of the planet was patchy.

“Illegal?” She shook her head. “Just when I thought Earth had run out of surprises.” She sipped at her tea.

“He could be arrested, he could go to prison. Or worse. Do you know what they did to Turing? To Wilde?” 

Missy shrugged. “Then be discreet.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Someone would find out.”

“Who?” she asked. “The only person you have proper conversations with is me, and even if Nardole had objections he's far too loyal to report you to the authorities.”

The Doctor sat back in the chair, thinking. “I can't,” he said eventually. “I can't endanger him like that.”

Missy shrugged. “Then why not just spirit him away in your magic box?”

He shook his head. “You know I can't do that.”

“Why not? Surely your love life is much more important than my redemption?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him in a show of pretended innocence. When the Doctor just scowled at her she continued. “Alright, maybe that's not an option right now. But you're very good at keeping secrets, and I know you can be cautious when you feel the need.”

The Doctor looked at her, puzzled. “Why are you encouraging me? What's in it for you?” 

“What's in it for me is how much less tense and irritable you'll be if you get laid on a regular basis. Besides,” she added, “I've always been a romantic at hearts. Don't you remember all those poems I wrote for you at the academy?”

The Doctor smiled despite his worries. “Those poems were terrible.”

Missy nodded. “They were,” she agreed, “but they were sincere. I wanted us to be together for eternity.”

“We sort of are,” said the Doctor. He raised a curious eyebrow. “You're not jealous?”

“Of a human?” Missy sounded offended. “Why would I be jealous of a human? Even if you love them they die soon enough, or more commonly in your case they get sick of you and run off with someone pretty that they've only just met.”

The Doctor ignored the jibe. “I'll think about it.”

“You do that. Now, are you going to angst all evening or can we continue that _Buffy_ marathon?”

He accepted the change of subject with a nod. “I'll put the popcorn on,” he said, standing, “you get the DVDs out.” 

\- - - 

They were at Alan's house for drinks after a rather tedious faculty event. The Doctor fidgeted with his cuffs nervously while Alan fetched the wine from the kitchen. Could he do this? _Should_ he do this? Almost certainly not, but that probably wasn't going to stop him. 

“Just the cheap stuff, I'm afraid,” said Alan when he returned with a bottle in hand. He set it down on the coffee table. “Money gets a bit tight at this time of the month.”

“Maybe if you didn't buy so many books that you never read,” said the Doctor, trying to quell the fluttering in his stomach. 

“Never question a man's book-buying habits!” cried Alan with mock horror. He stood before the Doctor, hands on hips. “And I will read them some day. Just not in the foreseeable future.”

The front door was locked and they were alone in the room. The Doctor decided to take a chance. “Look,” he said, a bit awkwardly, “I don't always read the signs correctly with these things, but I think I have this time.” He cleared his throat. “If I'm wrong about this you can punch me in the face, okay?”

Having said his piece, he took a step towards Alan, leaned in close, and kissed him gently on the mouth. After a moment Alan kissed him back. 

“So you _are_ like me,” said Alan, slightly breathless, when they parted. 

The Doctor stroked Alan's cheek with his fingertips. “Nobody's like you,” he said, voice soft with affection.

“But you know what I mean. God, I was so scared. I worried that perhaps you weren't and I was being too obvious and eventually you'd...” He ran a hand through his hair. “I love you.”

The Doctor didn't usually say it, but it felt incredibly important that he did this time. “I love you too.”

Alan's eye lit up, and he kissed the Doctor again.

\- - - 

“Someone had seeeeex,” sang Missy as the Doctor entered the vault. “Go on, give me all the lewd details.”

“No,” said the Doctor, who wasn't in the mood for this.

Missy pouted. “Oh, you're no fun at all.”

He walked over to where she sat. “Read these,” he said, setting two books down on the table beside her. 

Missy picked them up. “ _It's Not Unusual: History of Lesbian and Gay Britain in the 20th Century_ ,” she read. “ _Masculinity, Class and Same-Sex Desire in Industrial England, 1895-1957_.” She looked up at him. “Why?”

“You've hurt a lot of people in your life. It's time you understood what oppression feels like from the other side.”

“Well,” she said, “as a woman -”

“It's not a competition!” snapped the Doctor, angrily. “It's always different and it's always the same. I need you to _know_.”

Missy nodded contritely. “I'll read them,” she promised. “Cross my hearts.”

“Good.”

\- - - 

The Doctor's love affair continued in secret, with snatched kisses in empty offices and quick winks in quiet corridors. When they were alone together they held nothing back, expressing their feelings for each other in any way they could. 

It was good. It was wonderful. It was terrifying.

\- - - 

“Did you read those books I gave you?”

“Yes,” said Missy, relaxing in her favourite armchair. 

“And?” he prompted when she didn't elaborate.

“And now I have even less idea why you're so in love with this species. They're very inventive when it comes to prejudice and cruelty. All those things that you hate.” 

“They improve over time,” he said, defensive. “How did the books make you feel?”

“Sad. Angry. Confused.”

He nodded, pleased with her answer. “That's a reasonable response. A good one, in fact.”

Missy rolled her eyes. “Your approval means to much to me,” she said, sarcastically.

“It should, I'm the one who decides when you're ready to get out of here.” He didn't like reminding her of the power he held over her in this situation, but sometimes it was necessary.

She folded her hands in her lap. “I'm a prisoner, and your little pets aren't. Need I point out that I've never killed someone because I was offended by their sexuality?”

“That would mean a lot more to me if you actually thought you needed a reason to kill people,” he replied. She had a point, but she was just trying to minimise her own crimes while judging him for his loyalties. 

“Better no reason than a stupid reason,” she shot back. 

“They still end up dead.” He leaned forwards in his chair. “Missy, you can't use this to deflect from what you've done in the past. Other people's crimes don't make your own less appalling.”

“If you say so,” she said, clearly unconvinced. 

The Doctor sighed. He wasn't going to give up hope, but sometimes he felt close to despair on the subject of her redemption. She was trapped by her own perspective on the universe, too self-absorbed to see the nuances of the world around her. “Humans don't have a hive mind, they're not all thoughtless bigots.”

“And yet.”

He closed his eyes with another, heavier, sigh. “And yet.”

\- - - 

The Doctor was re-shelving textbooks in his bookcases when Alan entered his office without knocking. When he saw how distraught the man looked he climbed down the library-ladder and approached him with concern. “What's wrong?”

Alan stopped a few feet from the Doctor. “Does anyone else know about you?”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “Know what about me?”

“About your interest in men.”

He shook his head. “Nobody who'd say anything, why?”

Alan pulled a folded sheet of paper from his trouser pocket. “Someone found out about us. I got this letter. I'm being blackmailed.”

The Doctor took the letter and read it quickly. He looked at Alan. “Don't worry. I'll find out who sent this and deal with them.” And he would. He absolutely would.

Alan wasn't reassured. “And then what?” he asked, starting to pace the room. “What happens when someone else realises what's happening between us?”

“Listen, Alan -” 

He stopped pacing. “I'm sorry, Doctor, I cant do this any more.” His eyes were wet and gleaming.

The Doctor felt something break inside himself. “This?” He tried to pretend that he didn't know exactly what his boyfriend was saying with the words, as though the denial would somehow make them change meaning.

“Being with you. It's too dangerous. It's driving me mad. Looking over my shoulder all the time to see if anybody saw me smiling at you. Worrying about interfering busybodies every minute of every day. It's over.” 

The Doctor knew that there were three broken hearts in the room and that there was nothing he could do to fix any of them. “I can't... I can't tell you not to worry. You're not wrong to be afraid.”

Alan wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I love you, Doctor. I want to tell people. I want to hold your hand in public. For God's sake, I want to _marry you_!”

The Doctor swallowed, stunned both by the admission and the fact that he didn't recoil from the very idea of another marriage. “Me too,” he managed eventually. 

“I'm sorry,” Alan repeated. “I wish things were different but they're not. Perhaps they never will be.”

“They will, I promise.” He knew that the words were meaningless without the proof that he couldn't offer. For a moment he thought about ignoring all the rules of time-travel and handing out spoilers, but he knew that he couldn't. Even if he could, what difference would it make? He couldn't just ask Alan to wait out a decade until the two of them could be together again. He couldn't fix what would happen in the meantime. He couldn't fix _now_.

“When!”

“Not soon enough,” said the Doctor, his own tear ducts threatening to flood. “I'm sorry too.” For everything.

Alan stood for a few seconds, looking worse than the Doctor could bear. It was almost a relief when he left the room.

\- - - 

“So it's over,” said Missy. She moved a bishop across the chessboard and took the Doctor's knight.

The Doctor stared at the board, lost in his own thoughts.

“Do you want me to kill that blackmailer for you?”

He shook his head. “I thought about it. But two wrongs don't make a right, no matter how tempting it is.”

“Well, if you change your mind the offer stands.” 

The Doctor moved a pawn with no thought for strategy. “I should give you a stern lecture about the value of human life.”

“But you won't,” she said, taking the pawn. 

“No,” he said, hearts tired, “I won't.”

Missy moved a rook. “Checkmate. In six moves.” 

“Well done,” he said, without feeling. “Shall we play another game?”

She shook her head. “You're not in any state to make it a challenge. Winning against a weakened opponent is never as satisfying.” She was silent as the Doctor packed board and pieces back into the box. 

He looked up when she touched his hand. “What?”

“I know you want me to feel sad about what happened, but I'm not. I'm just angry.” She sat still, presumably waiting to be told off for her emotions.

The Doctor didn't see any need to censure her. “You should be. Sadness would be a nice addition, but anger's a good start. You're showing empathy with others.”

“You're always going on about how wonderful empathy is supposed to be,” she said. 

He nodded. 

“It's not wonderful. I hate it. I hate feeling like this on behalf of people I don't even know.”

“You'll get used to it,” he told her.

“Is this what it's like being you?” she asked, with a slightly distressed expression. 

“Most days, yes.”

Missy touched his hand again. She twined her fingers between his. “I'm sorry,” she said, with a genuine-sounding softness to her voice. “How do you cope with it?”

He tugged his hand from hers and rubbed it over his face. “Usually by bringing down someone's government.” He stood, carried the box over to the sideboard. 

“Channelling your outrage into something useful?” she asked.

“Yes. Which isn't something I can do right now.”

“So what will you do?”

The Doctor shrugged. “I don't know.”

\- - - 

He didn't see Alan for three weeks after that. He knew the other man was trying to avoid him, but he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed. And then one day, after a lecture on thermodynamics, he turned from cleaning the blackboard to find Alan standing at his desk. 

“You look good,” said the Doctor, cautiously. 

Alan nodded. “Things are looking up. I've been offered a job at Cambridge. Better pay, fewer students.”

The Doctor started tidying the mess of notes on his desk just for something to do with his hands. “I didn't know you were looking for another job.”

“I thought it might be for the best. Given the circumstances.” He sounded awkward, somewhat ashamed. 

“It's alright,” said the Doctor, gently, “I understand. I'll miss you,” he added. “You're one of the best people I've ever met.” He rounded the desk. “Good luck with the new job, you'll be brilliant.”

“Goodbye, Doctor.” Alan held out his hand for the Doctor to shake it. The classroom was empty, so the Doctor drew him into an embrace instead. 

“Goodbye, Alan.” The Doctor blinked back the tears that were forming in his eyes, making sure they were still dry when he released his former lover. “Have a good life.”

“I'll try my best,” said Alan, “but we both know that's not always possible.” He moved towards the door. “Goodbye. And thank you.”

“You too,” said the Doctor. When the door closed again he sat down heavily in his chair and dropped his head onto the desk, closing his eyes. He took control of his breathing and tried to think of nothing. 

\- - - 

Ten years later male homosexuality was decriminalised in England and the Doctor caught a train down to Cambridge.

“Doctor!”

“I was in the area,” he lied, as he slipped round the door into Alan's office. “I thought I'd drop in on you and see how you're doing.”

Alan gripped the Doctor's hands between his own. “It's good to see you again.”

“You're looking well,” said the Doctor. “How's the job?”

“Not much different from yours,” said Alan, releasing him. 

“A lot more prestigious.”

“And just as full of paperwork.” He grinned. 

The Doctor took a breath. “Listen, I know it's been a long time, but with the changes in the law, I was wondering if..?” He left the question hanging in the air between them. 

“Doctor...” Alan trailed off into silence. 

“There's someone else,” said the Doctor, with a weak smile.

Alan nodded. “Yes.”

The Doctor nodded, trying not to be selfish about it. “Of course there is. A handsome man like you couldn't stay on the shelf for very long.”

“You'd like him.”

“I'm sure I would,” said the Doctor, meaning it entirely. He made a show of looking at his watch. “My train home leaves in a couple of hours. Do you know any good teashops?”

“Plenty,” said Alan, picking up his jacket from the back of his chair. “Do you still take nine sugars?”

“I've cut down to eight. I hoped there might be health benefits but all it does is make my tea a bit less nice.”

“Treat yourself,” said Alan, holding the door open for the Doctor. “In fact, have ten. You only live once, after all.”

“Not a bad philosophy,” said the Doctor, stepping through the doorway. “Enjoy it while you can.”

“I did,” said Alan, quietly. “I did enjoy it. I don't have any regrets. Maybe in another life...”

“In another life,” agreed the Doctor. He broke the silence that followed the exchange. “So tell me about this teashop. Do they do good scones?”

\- - -  
\- - -


End file.
